


It's Gonna Get Weird

by junuve



Series: We Foolish Vessels [8]
Category: Nier Gestalt | Nier, Nier Gestalt | Nier Replicant | Nier (Video Games)
Genre: Gen, Intimacy, M/M, Massage, Sparring, There is no sex, i dont even know how to tag this fic its just Weird, im sorry, it gets weird but not freaky, nudity???, set earlier on in the timeskip period, there is some foot touching but its mostly for a joke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:42:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26353615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junuve/pseuds/junuve
Summary: Sparring! Massages! Affirmations!Nier and Weiss have a moment to feel each other out, quite literally.(Disgustingly chummy bookdad, set during the timeskip period.)
Relationships: Grimoire Weiss/Nier
Series: We Foolish Vessels [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1543177
Comments: 6
Kudos: 19





	It's Gonna Get Weird

“I _HATE_ SPEARS.”

The spear bit into earth as Nier hurled it into the ground.

“They hate you too.”

That bemused comment from Weiss didn’t help. Nier hung his head, trying to meter his breaths.

“Really, though, your reach is infinitely improved.” Weiss floated out of his periphery and bobbed in front of the man. “And you’re quite nimble with it, might I add. Your form is lacking still, though I do see promise!”

Nier shook his head, hair clinging to his sweat-slicked forehead. He flicked the pesky strands back as he walked over to the spear.

“In times like these, one must keep their head high,” Weiss offered yet more platitudes.

“Knock it off,” Nier grumbled as he yanked the spear from the earth, “I’m crap at it. Stop complimenting me.”

Weiss let out a sharp exhale. “Alright, fine! You’re _pathetic_.”

Nier gave Weiss a _look_ as he stalked back to his starting place.

“Weakling. Loser. Sad.” Weiss followed after him. “Wimpy baby man.”

Nier raised a brow, humorless. “Having fun?”

“ _Oh yes_ ,” the Grimoire did sound quite amused.

Nier rolled his eye. “There’s something wrong with you.”

“There’s something wrong with _you!_ ” Weiss shot back.

Nier ignored Weiss’ playful tone, instead refocusing on the training to be done. He conformed to the proper stance, scowl steeling as he held up his unadorned spear.

Weiss flounced back into position, spinning around, almost care-free in motion. Before he even stopped spinning, he’d already summoned his own spear. The conjure materialized from naught, its body long and thin; pitch black over bloody effulgence.

“Ready?” Weiss chimed merrily.

Nier nodded. “Let’s go.”

They tracked to and fro, metal haft colliding with dark spear, circling round in the fields on the outer edges of the valley.

This was the furthest outskirts of the village, tucked over a stream and behind a thicket where few tread. Such seclusion allowed them room to give or take in their spars. The subtle stream which weaved through the trees played a gentle trickle as the hiss of raking steel and growl of blood magic sang in sonorous tones.

The warriors jockeyed the range of their weapons, feinting high and low to draw an opening. Nier was giving too much ground, his parries slow from building exhaustion.

They’d been at this for hours…

Weiss’ ugly, bubbling spear chased high and then thrust down, pinning Nier in the thigh. He yelped, though he felt no pain. The tip of the conjure melted against his skin harmlessly before it disappeared as Weiss withdrew.

“Damn,” Nier swore at himself, “I’m just too slow!”

“I imagine being a terrestrial meat-bag has a lot to do with that,” Weiss replied as another spear wove into reality from his pages.

“Meat-bag?!”

Nier hurled an upward thrust at the floating rectangle. But just as the tip of the spear would have hit true, the book flinched a sliver aside, chuckling softly as Nier floundered past.

The man rounded, sweeping his weapon overhead impressively. With red-faced ferocity, he batted aside Weiss’ freshly conjured spear and thrust once more, missing again.

And again

And again…

His footwork wove perfect figured tracks around the evading book. They were quite pleasing to look at, the Grimoire thought, as they were obviously the steps of a man who had held a spear before. Weiss had offered his sage advice and dug up strategic resources for Nier, but he couldn’t help but think the man was fretting over a simple case of rust. Nier admitted to not having held a spear since he’d traded his last one away to pay for a home for wife and child, and that had been many years ago…

But here the old idiot was, infuriating himself over trying to hit the one, singular entity in the greater area that was beyond his current skill. How unfortunate, Weiss mused, that sparring played to his strength of mobility.

Out of sheer boredom, Weiss deflected a blow and took a lunge, sending Nier off-balance. The man staggered, catching his footing… but not his breath.

“You must keep your head, man!” Weiss instructed as his partner fumed quietly. “You are lent to bouts of wrath, I’m afraid.”

Nier dropped his stance, backing away in slight disorientation, and shook his head in a vain attempt to buck the pounding within. He grabbed a fistful of his sash and tried his best to wipe the sweat off around his mask, all while his chest heaved breaths.

After a minute he spoke up, telling Weiss in a strained, stern tone, “I’m not _upset._ ”

The book angled down and tilted up, giving the man a once-over.

“…very well, then.”

Nier hulked away again, setting up for another go-round. The Grimoire made a creaking as he hung ajar in defeat, the sound not dissimilar to a groan.

“I’m glad you are not upset, Nier,” Weiss called out to his companion as the man glared down the length of his spear at the book, and perhaps glared at existence itself, “it would be quite silly if you were vexed by being unable to land a hit on a skillful and competent Grimoire that is, perhaps, merely a hand-breadth wide as a target.”

“Less talking, more practicing,” Nier grumbled, and readied his spear.

Weiss might have had a pained grimace, had he the lips to bear it.

At it again the two went, the book being lethargic about every movement he made to allow his human opponent an sliver of a chance. The man circled his partner with unflagging tenacity, thoughts scrambling at some leverage to manage a successful out-maneuvering.

Nier cast out a loose, sloppy blow, and for a mere second Weiss was certain the old man had actually lost control of his own limbs.

And that was the ploy. For in the next breath, Nier burst forward with terrifying speed and a deadeye aim.

That prompted the Grimoire to elicit a remark of surprise, and… dodge again, turning with the ease of a spinning leaf as the explosive hit sent Nier stumbling off-course like a buffoon.

For a moment, the old man was disoriented, and that was all it took for Weiss to casually locate an opening. Before Nier had even realized he’d turned around, a dark spear needled into his bare chest. As it grazed his skin, a shiver zipped through his body. Each muscle cried for reprieve as the Grimoire held him at spear-point, and he grit his teeth, trying his best to not fall backwards and look like even more of a fool.

As he dropped the conjure, Weiss commented, “you really should wear some armor over your breasts, Nier.”

“…?!”

Weiss relented and his dark spear drifted away in a puff of black vapor. Nier couldn’t help but waiver as he found his balance again. The remark registered in full, and he gave the book an offended squint.

“My… _whats…?_ ”

“A breastplate, Nier,” Weiss repeated to the dazed man, “you need one.”

“But I hate getting my arms bound up in armor,” Nier argued, “it’s annoying.”

“More than you like not being skewered through the heart?” Weiss asked, tipping his body slightly.

“So far only books have gotten me in the chest.”

Weiss let out a breath. “I foresee us fighting Noir again, if that is what you’re implying.”

Nier grumbled to himself, finally compromising, “alright, fine. I’ll get a chest piece. Will that make you happy?”

“Very much!” The Grimoire bobbed. “We shall find an article most black and studded, with extra straps and chains,” Weiss declared, and then dropped to a whisper, “that’s what you’re into, right?”

Nier scowled at him.

“Shut up, Weiss,” and then he added, “…also, I don’t have breasts.”

“Then why do they call that armor piece a breast plate?!”

Nier didn’t have a good response to that, so he squared up again.

“Proper reset this time,” he informed the Grimoire, “I’ve gotta get this right.”

While Nier summoned the dregs of his stamina, Weiss found himself rapt in a visualization of the situation he was in, almost as if it were a fable: an old and weary one-eyed lion pacing and roaring at himself because he could not hit an exceptionally graceful and skilled finch flitting around his head.

Weiss roused himself long enough to offer a form of mercy, “I believe you’re spent, Nier. You look even more elderly than usual. We should stop.”

“No, no,” Nier stated adamantly, “I’m good for one more. Come on!”

Weiss flicked through his own pages as he inspected Nier. “Alright. _One_ more go. If only so you can regain a modicum of dignity after that previous sorry display.”

“Keep talkin’!”

“Gladly!” Weiss found himself oh-so amusing, biting back a laugh… or perhaps a scream.

Nier hefted the spear suddenly, trying to land a surprise shot. Weiss darted aside of the blow, but instead of letting Nier go, he took his dark spear and locked Nier’s weapon.

Immediately, the match was over, as Nier’s recourse for regaining his armament was futile. No matter how he tried to spin out of the hold, Weiss’ magic simply curved and twined around his spear’s shaft. Nier jerked this way and that, but Weiss’ dark spear simply grew more jagged teeth to grasp around Nier’s spear.

Nier wound and jerked, but Weiss’ conjure bent ever more impossibly to keep its hold, breaking all illusion that it was a physical object and not just some tentacle extension of Weiss’ being.

The Grimoire began to pull back, yanking the spear (and by extension, Nier) all around. The motion was not dissimilar to a dog tugging on a chunk of rope.

“What are you DOING?!” Nier asked between grunts as the old book played dirty. “That’s not even—a spear—you’re just—”

“So? Stop me!”

“ _RAUGH!_ ” Nier roared as Weiss waggled him around.

Gone entirely was the remnants of a composed warrior, and left in its place was a guy who just wanted his pointy stick back.

During one particularly impressive heave on Nier’s part, Weiss let go, causing the man to fall on his back. Nier wriggled indignantly for a second before accepting defeat via gravity, his weapon plonking down beside him.

Weiss gave him a second to rest, and then fluttered down, hovering a few feet above his face. In a serene tone of voice, he told Nier, “you look _miserable_. It is time to take a break.”

“But—” Nier started.

“ _Break time._ ”

Well, that was that, then. There was little budging the Grimoire when he got that tone of voice.

Nier rolled up to a sitting position, annoyed by the bits of grass and detritus stuck to his back. He forced himself to drink down his water-skin, all the while glowering at the nearby foliage.

His body sensed a reprieve, and so it commenced shutdown at once, leaving him with a sudden, realistic idea of his energy levels: which were zero.

The wave of exhaustion took hold in full, and Nier gave in, laying back once more. He remained splayed out on the grass, the rush lingering over him for a bit longer than normal.

The wave of exhaustion was… pushing him into the ground…?

He stared up into the sky, one-eye squint at its bright fullness.

No clouds today. No shades.

…why didn’t that make him happy?

Weariness strangled him suddenly, and the tightness hit his throat. The strange hole in him yawned wide—wider than the sky.

A subconscious thought bubbled up, but all he could bring to words was, “I’m never gonna get this.”

A moment later Weiss rebutted nonchalantly, “you will, in due time. If you don’t kill yourself first.”

Nier’s brow wrinkled. “…don’t have enough time.”

“You cannot focus on such things!” Weiss reprimanded the notion, annoyance finally breaking through.

Another rush ran through Nier. His body tensed, recoiling from the onset of such an eerie premonition.

“…too old.”

Weiss flipped around, observing him more closely.

“Beg your pardon?”

“I’m getting…” Nier hesitated, uncertain of his assertion suddenly, “…too old, I think?”

Weiss gave pause, his pages shuffling against one another as he thought that over.

“Bah! Get back to me when you’re so old you forget your age, _then_ we’ll speak,” he jabbed, hoping to incite some banter.

But Nier was quiet… and pensive. Troubling.

The man looked up at the ancient, immortal companion of his. “I don’t think you can understand this, Weiss.”

“What can I not understand?!”

“Running out,” Nier answered vaguely, “always feeling like you’re… running out.”

“Running out…? Of…?” Weiss trailed off.

Nier shrugged. “Time. Energy.”

The Grimoire loomed above, his eyes mere silver slits, roving over Nier. The lingering lack of a response was unusual from the book. It dawned on Nier that something he’d said must have really gotten to him.

“What?” Nier prodded.

“I think,” Weiss began, “it’s time to _go home_.”

“…I don’t want to give up.”

“Oh, stop being a _blockhead._ I don’t want to deal with it!”

Nier scowled. That stung… for some reason.

“Why do you even like me, Weiss?” he asked.

Weiss started at that. He had been expecting a barb; a comeback, not… The question was honest, and pathetically despondent, completely unlike Nier. He shook himself free of the shock, wondering how to answer such a thing.

Before Weiss could speak, Nier continued, “aren’t you tired…? Of, you know…”

Nier was clearly upsetting himself. “You really don’t have anything better to do?”

_Anything better to do…?_

_Anything better to do?!_

Weiss’ eyes were hooded in disdain.

“I’m not even going to ingratiate that idiocy,” the book retorted.

And then he promptly took his leave.

Nier tracked the Grimoire from where he laid, leaning upwards to follow.

“What does THAT mean?”

“You are an imbecile without peer,” Weiss called back before he continued on his way. “Feel free to languish on the ground long as you like, you unthankful oaf!”

Nier watched in silence as Weiss flew off and down into the thickets beyond, soon obscured by the trunks of the trees. He stared for a long while at those trees before he laid back, staring up at the sky once more.

He listened to the wind’s low hum, and the brush of it against the leaves of the trees. Faintly, the stream’s trickling melody peaked through the din, ever serene and comforting.

He laid for some time… thoughts dispelled by the overwhelming melancholy. Slowly, one word managed to drift through his subconscious, coming to the fore of his mind.

_Unthankful…_

Yeah.

He held onto the word, considering it.

_Yeah…_

Weiss was an ass, but he was right. Nier sat up, despite the weight still pressing upon him, and cast a glance over to the spear and it’s dirt-streaked tip.

It wasn’t just any old spear that one would cast aside, no… this was Transience: a gift from a faraway King.

Nier slowly reached over and took hold of the spear in his cracked hand, lifting it up and resting it on the butt. He stared up the length of its steel, on toward the simple, double edged tip pointing toward the clouds.

 _Transience…_ what an odd name.

Nier reckoned the whole display of the day _was_ pretty unthankful—childish even—on his part. Here he had a well-forged spear from Façade and the training space to use it in. He also had a helpful selection of passages on how to handle said spear, all of which Weiss had scrounged from the library… not to mention how Weiss had proceeded to teach him like some kind of _master of combat arts_ , surpassing even what Nier had been taught in his youth.

It was kinda miraculous how this all aligned for such a simple man like himself.

Nier forced himself to stand.

And he picked up his spear _Transience_.

And he stood there, with the spear.

And he kept standing…

Why was he standing?

Why was he so damned dizzy?

What was he _doing?_

He wanted to… prove himself wrong? Make Weiss proud? He didn’t know. Maybe he should… train some more? No. That wasn’t happening. Even with all the willpower he could muster, he would gain no ground in a state like this. He was just too heavy, too sore, too—

He saw a flit in the periphery of his good eye. Weiss announced his presence with a loudly projected ‘cough’.

Nier gazed over at him, trying to steady his dizzy wobbling.

“What?” he asked.

“I’m glad you’re not pouting anymore, but…” Weiss let true worriment slip out, “ _please_ , cease this self-flagellation! You’re going to pass out at this pace.”

“Er,” Nier didn’t quite follow, but understood the word _‘stop’_. It sounded like a reasonable plan, now that he’d exhausted himself to the point of falling over.

“Sure…” he agreed.

“Come along, then,” Weiss beckoned him, adding, “you did your best today. You’ll do better tomorrow.”

“Ya sure about that?” Nier mused.

“I will _make_ sure.”

Nier snickered. “Alright, alright. Don’t gotta go all dictator on me.”

He re-adjusted his grip on _Transience_ , and did his best to stagger after Weiss on toward the grouping of trees further into the valley.

As they walked along, Nier felt the need to speak, “uh, sorry about earlier. I just got… sad, I guess.”

He wished he had a bigger word to describe the feeling. Sad just didn’t capture how overwhelming it was.

“I could feel it.” Weiss was completely sober. “That husk of flesh you inhabit is prone to such bouts of depression when faced with prolonged adversity.”

Nier took a small jump over the stream running through the trees, careful of his spear.

_Depression…_

“Prolonged adversity?”

“I needn’t say that the recent events in your life have not been particularly _pleasant_ ,” Weiss summarized tactfully, “I fear many a human would be a blubbering blob by now.”

“Yeah… I guess.”

When was the last time things were even remotely OK? Nier couldn’t remember it. Not really.

…

_What did normal even feel like?_

He didn’t want to think about it, so he let his mind clear, focusing instead of the scent on the wind. He could smell the village: smoke, water, and other less desirable things.

The two continued on down through the valley toward the heavy brick house they called home. Once inside, Nier put laid aside _Transience_ and took a seat on one of the stools scattered far from the dining table.

Elbows on his knees, he hung his head, eye closed. He tried to not think of the errands he had obligated himself to tomorrow, and simply swore to himself that he would take on less work like Weiss always asked.

But what about a lead…?

_What about Yon—_

A strange sensation tore him from those ruminations. Something was unfastening the belts over his chest and yanking his pauldron off.

Nier jerked away from a floating bit of his armor, and then looked around for Weiss.

“What are you doing?” Nier asked.

“Undressing you. Can’t you see?” Weiss explained casually. He focused his magic on unlatching the armor protecting the man’s abdomen next.

“Why…?” Nier specified, beleaguered.

“I made you a bath!” the Grimoire snapped.

Nier glanced over and sure enough, the sturdy old wash basin (a proud vestige of a faraway era of prosperity) had been stocked with fresh water.

“Oh…” Nier’s voice descended a register, a little more humble. “Thanks.”

Weiss had had time to do that? Damn. He must’ve been laying on the ground a while. No wonder Weiss was concerned…

Nier watched yet another piece of armor drift away, deposited on the rack along with his pauldron. The belts lacing around his torso unbuckled one after the other, the strange brush of magic warm against his side.

Nier grabbed hold of the belts before they too took flight.

“I can undress myself, Weiss,” he said quietly.

“Then, by all means!” the book dipped and hovered away as if to gesture ‘carry on’.

Nier unfastened the guards wrapped around his arms and legs, loosing the coils of chain and leather from just about every body part he had.

“When I made you fall down, you scraped up your back,” Weiss spoke to him as he undressed, “those cuts need to be cleaned.”

Nier stopped just short of dropping his culottes, annoyed that the book was reminding him. “I know, Weiss. I got it. I can feel my back.”

“Just making sure,” Weiss hummed and drifted over to the pantry, affording the man the thinnest veil of privacy.

Nier stepped into the bath, stiffer than he anticipated. He winced as he body disagreed with the temperate water. Slowly, he began to unclench his muscles, sitting still with a knotted brow.

The full brunt of just how far he’d pushed himself dawned on him. This ache was going to linger a while, that much was certain.

A sharp sting ceased all relaxation. Nier flinched away, grimacing. His neck threatened to tweak in a bad way, so he had to shift his body around to get a good look at the book hovering behind him.

Weiss was caught dark-handed with a chunk of soap. Staring directly at Nier, he went to continue washing the scrapes.

His back lit on fire again, and that was enough.

“I can take care of it! Stop! Stop it!” Nier held up his hands and gingerly grabbed the soap. “That’s not how you do that. At all.”

He swore under his breath.

Nier began to scrub himself, and then asked with annoyance, “how old did you say you were?”

“I was simply removing the dirt before I patched you up,” Weiss said, and then drifted around in a circle over Nier, his tone patronizing, “or do you deem yourself above the great Grimoire Weiss’ gifts of healing?”

Nier seriously considered splashing Weiss, but the stench it’d entail outweighed all temptation. He loved the old book, but damn if he didn’t _reek_ when wet.

He shook his head and went back to tending the scrapes and cuts he’d acquired during his graceless tumble. He’d apparently scratched his foot too, but his body was refusing to let him curl over enough to properly reach. He made a couple pitiful attempts to reach before staring crossly at his own foot.

“Do you require assistance?” came the book’s low drone.

Nier leaned back, sighing in defeat.

“Since you’re being weird and _watching me take a bath_ , sure, why not?” he said, irked.

Weiss, undeterred, reached down and wrapped a dark hand around the man’s foot, having no reservations as he ran his clawed fingers over it and between Nier's toes. The magic was gentle and slow, a faint thread of red light closing the cuts over his tendons.

Weiss’ dark hand massaged around the instep. It felt great. But it was making Nier really… _uncomfortable_. He diverted his eye, and the sheepish look elicited a deep chuckle from the Grimoire.

This provoked the book to grab both of his feet. He proceeded to massage them in tandem.

“OK, that’s enough!” Nier stuck his feet back down on the bottom of the tub.

Weiss started laughing in full, charmed by the unusual bashfulness. In truth, he hated feet, but the flush on the man’s face was worth the ordeal.

But he’d have mercy, for now, and decided to leave Nier to his own devices. Weiss hovered over and found the spear _Transience_ just laying against the corner in the kitchen, and with a huff, toted the poor thing back to its proper place on its rack. He decided to continue organizing to give himself something to do other than pester Nier.

He kept hearing winces and grumbles from the man’s way, however, taking note of how pathetic he sounded.

By the time Weiss had completed his scavenger hunt around the downstairs, Nier’s groaning had escalated to a ridiculous level. He was barely able to move, practically frozen. After another solid minute of wincing and trying to rub at his own back (with little success), Weiss had had enough. He rolled his eyes and floated over.

“Do you need help?” he asked, suddenly right behind Nier.

Nier turned far enough to lock Weiss in a strained glare.

“Don’t give me a massage,” he said in a strained pitch, “it’s gonna get weird.”

Weiss sounded quite smug as he asked, “did I ever say _massage_?”

“…no,” Nier admitted.

“Is that something you desire?” the book’s voice was incredibly slow and close, almost directly in Nier’s ear.

He shied away. “Quit making it weird!”

Weiss pretended to be insulted, “there’s nothing inherently _sexual_ about a massage, you know…”

Nier looked away from Weiss, wrinkling his brow.

“Yeah, this is already weird,” he decided.

“Sit still,” Weiss commanded.

A low rumble announced the manifestation of dark hands. The growl of the magic was oddly comforting, and he shut his eye while he listened to the melody of the spell chiming through him.

The magic wisped against his skin before the ever-so-subtly sharp fingers curled over his shoulders, giving a tentative squeeze. Nier scrunched his face as his muscles tweaked under pressure, but relaxing slightly as the grip loosened. Already, he felt a step better.

Nier wondered idly of the exact moment at which the feel of warm and odd not-wet-but-wet-feeling magic had become so… pleasing.

_Ah, hell… Who cared?_

“Yeah. You’re right,” Nier commented, leaning into Weiss, “nothing weird about a book rubbing my mea—”

With uncanny speed and efficiency, Weiss reached down and pinched one of his nipples.

“OW!” Nier doubled over, splashing a bit, “why?!”

Weiss seemed amused, a near silent laugh escaping him.

“Shhhh…” the sound wasn’t so much a breath as a rasp of paper.

After the little scuffle, Nier settled back down. He uncurled into the hands, unable to help a wince or two as the Grimoire worked through his musculature. It was starting to become hard to discern where the conjure began and his own skin ended as the magic dove into the cuts across his back and swept the pain away.

He could imagine the magic absorbing into him, slightly melting against his skin, just like the dark spear had done. To an outsider, it’d appear like horrific, alien veins working into him—parasitic and disgusting, but to Nier…?

For that time, the dull ache of his entire body was drowned out by this wonderful sensation.

Exertion and release, over and over, until the stiffness fell away. The Grimoire could sense the blood flow keenly, every drop, as it rushed through Nier.

Weiss had to focus beyond the intoxicating sound.

Steadily, he traced along the contour of muscle and the presence of sinew, pressing in and tapering away, blood shimmering musically.

He took his time, admiring the dark bronze designs scrawled across Nier’s deep tan. Weiss always wondered what the tattooing meant, but he didn’t feel inclined to ask, too enthralled by the present quiet.

Hairline scars shimmered in the lamplight, weaving through the designs. He felt the odd divot and depression where the man’s worn body had not fully rebuilt the flesh which had been lost. Some of the wounds Weiss recalled, yet countless others were a mystery, likely attained in the murk of the past.

It was always so incredible to Weiss how much this man had compress into his mere breath of a lifetime compared to that of the Grimoire’s own.

He ran fingers under the man’s jaw, and then up the side of his skull, continuing on down, pressing against the back of his neck. He combed lightly through the damp hair before sweeping it aside. Softly, minding his claws especially, he ran his fingers down the ridges of the man’s neck, over tendon and vertebrae.

Nier bowed his head, resting his chin on his chest. The draws of breath were slow—his heartbeat calm.

Weiss was beaming.

A certain stroke on the nape of his neck evoked a shiver as the tension eased.

This was quite a sensitive spot, the Grimoire noted. For some accursed reason, he could vividly imagine… _kissing_ there, though he lacked all equipment to do so.

But even if he could, that would be quite _weird_ , would it not? What a dear notion…

Weiss took his mind off the urge, moving down to the muscles at the base of his neck. His hands ringed around the man, squeezing the connective area. Nier rose up a little, instinctively flexing.

The old book would have never thought that this would be how he’d enjoy using his dark, arcane powers, but here he was.

Fragile tendons and veins, swelling arteries, the magnifying flow coursing by… Calculations of letter and ink rushed through the Grimoire, synchronizing with the heartbeat of his… _partner_.

It was a tad overwhelming to sense all at once.

The man had all but melted, wrapped in his spell. Weiss relinquished the magic, his hands turning to clots of smoke, vanishing into the air.

Nier remained reclined for a good minute, restful in countenance, reveling in the moment.

“Nearly put me to sleep,” Nier mused with a contented breath. He turned an appreciative smile Weiss’ way, reaching out and patting the book lightly on the spine.

“Not too weird, I presume?” Weiss asked.

Nier answered with a knowing smile.

He stood up and began to wring his hair. Accepting the towel offered to him that was merely floating mid-air.

“How did you even get so good?” Nier asked absently as he finished sopping up the excess water. “Is massage even a thing for grimoires?”

Weiss turned mid-air, contemplating that question for a moment too long. Nier had already moved on, going about scrounging up something to wear.

“Actually…”

Nier did a double take in the Grimoire’s direction just as he pulled a shirt out from the folds of the bedding.

Weiss edged closer, explaining, “during exploits I get lots of folds and creases, worst of all are the corners. It’s actually quite a task to undo them all alone, so usually another… grimoire would aid.”

“Wait, _wait_.” Nier never heard Weiss talk about this kind of thing. “Like… _other_ books? Like you?”

“Yes…?” The book searched his mind, distant. “I suppose so. I remember no one else being allowed to touch us. As to why? I’m not entirely sure.”

 _Huh._ Even Nier had had that fear once, instilled in him from those that had tried to guide him as a young man. It was some kind of superstition, he figured, passed down through the generations. It was almost as if the act of touching a grimoire dredged up some hidden remnant of instinct in people, despite there being a distinct lack of the magical books in the daily lives of said people.

“I don’t know why they couldn’t. I’ve done a lot more than just touch you and I’m fine,” Nier said with a completely straight face.

Weiss chuckled at that, though there was a slight nervy edge to it.

Nier couldn’t help but imagine grimoires coexisting and helping each other out as they flew around doing… whatever it was magic books did… kind of like a big demented flock of birds.

“So, not all of your, er,” Nier searched for words, “ _kind_ were so… uh, crazed or… evil?”

Weiss hovered before him. Silently.

“I didn’t mean—look, I’ve met three books lately and two of them tried their damnedest to kill me,” Nier defended himself sheepishly. “Between that and the stories—”

Weiss cut in, “stories?”

“Tales of magical books? Yeah, of course,” the man answered, and continued on, “most of the time the ones in the stories just ate people’s souls, or… uh, just flat-out ate people,” he added with a pointed smirk, “it’s all hogwash, _clearly_.”

Weiss mimicked a scoff. “I highly doubt we’re _evil as a kind_ , but the peasant lore keepers are wise to spread tales of caution.”

“Yeah, imagine making the mistake of bending the knee to one,” Nier teased.

“Imagine _that_ ,” Weiss replied amusedly, and then he inquired with a level of curiosity, “did you ever, perchance, believe those stories?”

“When I was a kid? Yeah, sure. You tend to believe that kind of stuff. But by the time I met you, so much had already happened I…” Nier searched himself a moment before resolving, “I guess I was ready to believe anything. Still am, maybe.”

Nier mulled it over some more. “I’m glad you were the book in the shrine with Yonah… I don’t know what would’ve happened if it’d been one of those crazy ones, like that red one especially,” he said, making a face.

_The red text…_

Weiss started to speak, but shook himself, backing away. “Honestly, I’m not even sure if thinking and feeling is the norm… for my kind.”

Nier frowned, inspecting Weiss intently.

The book sunk a few inches in the air, a dreadful, lurching onset by his wondering.

“I-It’s pointless to think about,” Weiss relented the pursuit of the fleeting memories. The ones he wanted to recall were entrenched in others that were insidious. He daren’t open that tomb…

…not when he had someone in the present beholding him with such genuine concern. A very… naked someone.

Nier sensed the glum mood, and nudged the Grimoire by a corner to garner his attention (which, unbeknown to him, he most _definitely_ had).

“Hey… uh, could a human do it for you?” Nier asked.

“What?!” Weiss’ mind was racing in many directions at once—the breadth of his past, the fleeting memories, an unbearable sorrow threatening to pervade his existence, Nier’s lack of pants….

“Do what?” he asked, panicked.

“ _Massage_ you.”

_A human…_

… _human…_

Weiss was carried off by his thoughts; unresponsive.

Nier shifted his weight, looking the book over. He put a hand on a hip, questioning, “…or do I gotta have magic hands?”

“Huh? Oh!” Weiss was torn from the trance, flashed again by the very naked man waiting on him. “Er, well… You _could_ undo a few…” Weiss’ words meandered, and then he shut tightly. “Actually! Never mind. It’s a bit tedious. You’d just knot yourself back up. Can’t have that, can we?”

Weiss floated off sharply.

Nier had no idea what had happened.

“Am I gonna have to come over there?” the man feigned a threat.

Weiss ceased bobbing, hanging in the air utterly still.

“I’ll chase you around if I have to,” Nier said nonchalantly, “then it’ll be _really_ weird.”

“My word…” Weiss sounded scandalized, and that only egged Nier on.

“C’mere.” he beckoned with a saucy grin.

Weiss grumbled and angled away. He didn’t know what he was feeling, but it was certainly a lot.

“Unless,” Nier backed off a little, “you don’t want to…”

“Oh, no! It’s not that! I’m—well,” the Grimoire cast around a moment, huffing as the right words evaded him.

“It’s the being-a-book thing, isn’t it?”

Nier’s aim was unusually good for a one-eyed man.

“What?! Of course not! I am Grimoire Weiss, despite all your attempts to strip that title from me, and happy for it!” the book failed to convey confidence with his bluster.

“Well, sometimes you do get weird about being a grimoire, like it’s a bad thing,” Nier spoke honestly with a shrug, “I know you don’t really hate yourself, but there are… moments.”

The man left it at that.

Weiss sounded so incensed, “…how can you be so _dense_ and simultaneously so _perceptive_?”

Nier shrugged again.

Weiss tipped forwards, a little quieter than usual, “…I apologize. It’s a troubling mystery. I don’t like not knowing things.”

“Would it help if I told you that I don’t care about it? About the past? You’re Weiss, and I love ya for it. All of it,” Nier spoke with candor, “except maybe the complaining, but hell, I do that too.”

Weiss hung wordlessly for a long moment, taking this information in, and the stability present within Nier.

Weiss sighed heavily. “That helps… somehow.”

“So… about those pages,” Nier offered his aid again.

“You’re naked,” Weiss pointed out.

The man crossed his arms, unable to keep his smirk contained.

“There’s nothing inherently _sexual_ about being naked, Weiss."

Weiss sincerely contemplated slapping Nier, but he had a suspicion that, even as tired and sore as Nier was, the man would _enjoy_ it.

The Grimoire grumbled to himself, Nier’s grin growing worse, somehow.

“C’mon, I’ll stop teasin’ ya,” he relented in good humor and reached out to the book. Weiss eyed him and with dramatized resentment, alighted in his hands. Nier walked over and sat down on the bed, bringing the Grimoire to rest just above his lap.

Weiss cracked open, flipping through himself to a specific page. Amidst the endless lines of dense, subtly shifting symbols there was a shock of ivory—a blank page.

“See here?” he waved the bent page around. It’s motions were only half as lively as his pages could normally be. “Absolutely awful.”

“When did this happen?” Nier asked, inspecting the sharp creases.

“I snapped shut funny in a strong headwind,” Weiss explained, and then he began to detail the process, “now, to straighten it, you must gently press, going from the gutter to th-th—a-ah!” Weiss’ voice hitched as Nier went ahead and took his fingers to the page with care, pressing the page outward, uncurling it.

Ripples of symbols and signs Nier couldn’t discern flowed around his fingers. As he smoothed the crease out fully, the page itself took over and laid flat again, wrested back under the book’s control.

“Oh. _Oh,_ that’s…” Weiss sounded quite satisfied, and the words began to pour onto the page again, until it was so busy with verbiage it hurt Nier to look at it.

The Grimoire relaxed, opening up and laying near flat in his hands.

“… _much better._ ”

“Is that all?” Nier ventured.

Weiss awoke, a little self-conscious, “oh! Oh, no. It’s simply—” he cut himself off and started to flip through himself at a hurried speed, finding another page that had a massive dog-ear to it. “There’s another. If you would…”

Nier took a hold of the page and started to smooth it out too. He knew rationally that the paper in Weiss wasn’t your average type, but it always got him when he felt it. It was soft, a little like calfskin (or just _skin,_ but that made it sound worse than it felt). For some reason Nier always found himself expecting course, grimy pages not… _this_.

A small, satisfied noise escaped Weiss despite his obvious attempts to conceal it. Nier watched the script flow back into the page, following his motions. He stopped smoothing the dog-ear, and instead traced his finger around out of curiosity. The ink rippled at his touch, trailing in the wake.

_Neat._

He traced a pattern on the page.

“Stop that,” Weiss warned.

Nier continued and drew a little heart.

The book slammed shut on his finger.

“Son of a-”

“Don’t _toy_ with me!”

Weiss hadn’t really hurt him, it was mainly just a scare. Nier nursed his finger anyway, unsure if he wanted to touch Weiss again.

“Tch! You made me bend this page AGAIN.” Weiss’ entire text block rubbed together, producing a hiss.

“Fix it!” he demanded.

“OK, OK…” Nier obliged and made it better, this time properly removing the wrinkles and allowing the page to function properly once more.

“So… do you just… lose control of your pages over time?” Nier wondered aloud.

“No. I simply let them fall out if they remain useless for a long time,” the Grimoire explained, “I can always produce more.”

“Ah…” Nier nodded.

Weiss didn’t miss a beat and carried over to the next page. Flashes of pasted-in logs and old records caught Nier’s eye, these practical scraps scattered among the magical nonsense inside.

“This tab is about to fall out,” Weiss told him, and he could clearly see the bit of paper in question.

“I don’t have anything to stick it back on with,” Nier said.

“Just adjust it, it’s plenty sticky still.”

As Nier gingerly straightened out the tab, he noticed how the rest of the words and borders flowed around the other pasted bits of paper. Each note and addendum were like stones in a stream of words.

Nier watched the text with interest. Why did they move so much? What did it all mean?

There was so much he didn’t know about Weiss…

“What is all this stuff anyway?” He gestured to the myriad of symbols.

“Me,” Weiss answered with a hint of amusement.

“I meant: what is it _doing_?” Nier rephrased, “why do your words swirl around?”

There was a minute of contemplation before Weiss responded, “…I do not know.”

Nier jerked his head back.

“Why does your body look and act the way it does?” Weiss took his turn to query Nier.

“Erg…”

“Yes, _exactly_ ,” Weiss said with satisfaction. He flipped over to a new section, offering up another rumpled page.

“Well, don’t you know what it means?” Nier kept on, determined to figure out something.

Weiss was too busy enjoying himself, and tried to shoot down the inquiry, “no. _I don’t._ ”

“But it’s written in you,” Nier was persistent with the questions, “can’t you read it?”

“I understand the Verses and functions, yes,” Weiss answered distractedly as Nier managed to stroke the page flat _just right_ , “d-discerning why it is so is… harder.”

“Oh. So… you can’t read?” Nier said.

“I CAN READ,” Weiss raised his voice, and then stepped down a decibel or two as he continued on, “but my text is comprised of the most arcane of magics!”

He splayed himself at Nier. “Do you see these runes? These symbols? Do you know what _Grimoire_ even means?!”

“Sorry, sorry,” Nier offered an apology, and tried to word things with more care, “I meant… read this… stuff. I thought once you learned your letters and, you know, basic sentence structure, you could kinda get a gist, maybe?”

“Oh, for the love of...” Weiss cut off, “just because you CAN read it doesn’t mean it makes _sense_ to you.”

Nier nodded and pondered that for a minute, resuming work on the page.

“I get it,” he said finally.

“You do?” Weiss was skeptical.

“Yeah,” Nier spoke to convince him, “it’s like how I don’t really understand how my body and organs work. Not really.”

“Hmmm,” Weiss hummed, contemplating the statement, “that’s a fairly apt comparison… are you well?”

“Impressed, huh?” Nier asked, and continued massaging the folds, rubbing the back of his nail against the page.

“H-hardly,” but Weiss couldn’t help how his voice hitched when he got it just right. “Enough questions.”

“I just wanted to know more... about you,” Nier said.

“About me?”

“Yeah,” the man took a couple of pages that had been bent together and gingerly pulled them apart, “you’re neat.”

“I’m _neat_ ,” Weiss repeated, charmed.

“It’s not fair,” Nier argued as he ran his fingers across Weiss’ contents, “you know so much about me and I don’t know hardly anything about you.”

“I think…” Weiss’ tempo was growing more lethargic, “I think you’re learning… plenty about me.”

“Ahhh.” Nier nodded.

This _was_ pretty fun.

Nier wondered absently how his life had come to this: to slowly pressing the wrinkles out of a tetchy old Grimoire, and much more importantly, why he was enjoying it so much.

A subtle grin softened his features, and he continued to work out the kinks gathered in the old book’s pages. He had an inkling the whole thing might tense him up again, but honestly, the methodical pace was… relaxing, really.

“Nier…?”

He hesitated on uncurling the page, waiting for Weiss to continue.

“Do you still think of me as…” the words took a while to formulate, “as the, erm, book of legend?”

“Uh…” Nier stalled, wondering what the heck Weiss wanted to hear.

“You forgot.” Weiss didn’t sound upset.

…but he didn’t sound happy either.

“No. I didn’t forget!” Nier objected, and without thinking, he explained, “I just don’t care.”

Immediately a shard of doubt lodged in Nier’s brain, stopping his hands. That was probably the _worst_ thing to say. Weiss was questioning his identity again, and he states he _doesn’t care_.

Of course, it was true. Nier didn’t give a damn about the prophecy of the _Song of the Ancients_. He honestly didn’t care about much anything at all! He didn’t know what to believe in, who to trust, or what the hell he was doing.

But he _did_ care about the Grimoire he held.

Damn, his hands were sweaty, that was probably really gross, but he wasn’t sure if he should move them or—

“Good,” Weiss said with finality.

Nier’s hands felt heavy on the Grimoire, even as the pages beneath his fingertips shimmered with warmth.

He tipped his head.

“…good?”

“Yes,” Weiss purred, “ _very good._ ”

The pages nudged Nier’s hands up and shuffled along, Weiss turning himself to another crumpled section. It was as if the page had been balled up like a discarded note. Nier focused on gingerly removing the spidered wrinkles, but as he did, a dull sensation began to numb his fingers.

Was Weiss… vibrating?

No. It was more of low, pleasant hum. He pressed his palm into the page to feel it, and the ache wound around his bones dissipated.

“What’s so good about not being a legend?” Nier inquired earnestly.

“Honestly,” the ever-eminent voice had taken on a distant lilt, “I don’t think I can… articulate that right now.”

Nier replied, “so… you’re fine with just being called _Weiss_ , huh?”

“Absolutely not!” Weiss used the last of his lucidity.

“Why not?” Nier kept on.

“My title… is… a separate issue…!” the words fell farther and farther apart, “I am a noble creature… I shall be… respected… thus…”

“Uh-huh,” Nier nodded along, taking the initiative to turn Weiss’ page as he finished the mend.

“Mmmhm,” was the sluggish reply.

Weiss liked to turn his own pages, so Nier was sure that leafing through him would elicit some rise, but… it seemed like he had slipped beyond responsive.

A moment later, Weiss ceased to hover, flopping onto his lap. Nier was startled, flinching as warm, thrumming metal met with his legs and his… well, _that_ was certainly a sensation!

Nier sheepishly worked a hand under the collapsed Grimoire, holding the still-opened book in a less awkward position.

He fanned the book’s text to and fro. There was no complaint. Nier opened and shut Weiss, several times, and got no response. He poked at the Grimoire’s face, tracing annoyingly around on his scrollwork decorations. Not a _word._

Weiss was silent and still. Slowly but surely, the heat was dissipating from the book, and Nier could feel the throb of life growing fainter.

Nier leaned in, staring intently at the book, and a hand rose to his chin.

He’d _killed him._

Nier had massaged the life out of Weiss.

Or, more likely Weiss’d just fallen into a deep sleep. That was probably the case, so there was no need to overreact.

But he wondered, was this simply a peaceful nap, or was it a slumber to last a few hundred _years_?

The latter was a real concern for Nier. He’d never actually seen Weiss so dormant. Usually the book only feigned sleep. Knowledge on the inner-workings of his book friend would sure help him out at a time like this, huh? But there simply wasn’t anything he could do about it.

After a few more minutes of staring, Nier had a thought. There was a fairy tale about this… a legend, even. According to the tale, there was only one thing that Nier could do to awaken the sleeping Grimoire.

He brought Weiss up, resting a mere few inches from his face, and gave the book a kiss.

…and, nothing.

_Of course._

Time to resort to the tried and true method.

Nier calmly rose to his feet and laid the Grimoire on the bed. He then walked over to his humble armory to make a selection.

_The walking stick would do…_

Slowly, Weiss began to awaken. His system detected _moisture_ on his facing, and so a forceful wake-up call registered throughout his body—merely a matter of preservation. Although he was water-proof, it wasn’t good to be wet for long stretches of time.

“Making moves on a sleeping book… is truly _nothing_ beneath you?” Weiss asked dreamily, his vision coming back to him. He could just make out the shape of someone. Was he holding something…?

Nier’s eye widened, and in a panic, he aborted Operation: _Hit Weiss Really Hard with a Stick to Make Sure He Doesn’t Sleep Forever._

All Weiss heard was the sound of something wooden clattering, and observed the blurry shape of what he assumed was Nier trying far too hard to act normal.

The man finally sat down beside him, clasping his hands in a very peculiar manner.

“Oh, you’re awake…” Nier said, his tone suspicious. “Were you asleep?”

“…nnnyes? I do believe when someone wakes that means that they had been sleeping prior to…” Weiss reasoned sluggishly as his vision finally cleared, “…why are you still naked?”

“Uh, I—” Nier had forgotten. Honestly. “I was distracted. I… thought I killed you.”

Weiss lifted himself up, resting on his bottom edge. He shifted to face Nier, concern evident. “…are you really that stupid?”

Nier was unable to come up with a defense.

“I… don’t know where my pants are,” he admitted, unrelated.

“You poor, poor creature.” Weiss clucked his ‘tongue’.

Nier glanced around before looking back to the Grimoire who was already hopping over to the pillows on the bed.

“Isn’t it time for the daily rest, anyway?” Weiss turned himself around and fell onto his back, wiggling further into the bedding to get comfortable.

“Unless,” the book proposed, “you desire to kiss me again… _idiot._ ”

Nier didn’t seem to appreciate that particular term of ‘endearment’.

“Aren’t your pages gonna get all messed up again?” Nier scooted up, leaning back before he began an unflattering _I-am-still-horribly-sore_ crawl into the bed.

Weiss hummed, watching the gracelessness with which Nier moved, but that didn't stop him from insinuating, “I think we’re in the mood for something a little more than a few bent pages…”

“You think so, huh? I don’t wanna undo all my hard work, Weiss,” Nier spoke low, laying along the bed, edging closer.

The sound of dark magic stirred, and Weiss’ voice fell to a whisper, “let me show you how to effectively wield that spear, mmm?”

Nier smiled pleasantly at Weiss, sweeping the Grimoire into his hands and holding him overhead as he rolled onto his back. Still smiling, Nier turned toward the wall and stuffed Weiss into the shelving above before he flopped over and went to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy birthday to Papa Nier. Finally. He can SLEEP.
> 
> ...honestly, I didn't even know if I was going to release this fic because it's such a weird flow of... events. This was originally going to be played a lot more straight and lead into spicier territory, but I let it get out of hand and I'm happier with the goofy tone. Also, if Nier being naked for a _very long time_ was weird to you, then good, because that was actually the result of me accidentally editing out the sentence where he... puts pants on... and then deciding to roll with that because it was funnier having him naked for half of the fic.
> 
> Please let me know what you liked and didn't like, if you wish! I love reading your comments! <3 Thank you for reading, regardless!!


End file.
